The Scarlet Bride

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  It was a shame. With her beauty, she could have been much sought after by men of the Ton. Add a huge dowry and she’d have her pick of husbands. They’d line up to charm her and beg to wed her. She’d choose her favorite and that one man would be lucky to spend the rest of his life in her bed.

  There was no chance of that now.

  Simon shook his head and silently scoffed at the thought. When had he become a romantic, and where had he put his lute?

  Instead of answering her, he looked over her serviceable dress. “Can you ride?” He wanted the day to be light and enjoyable. No dismal topics, no arguments.

  “Passibly.” She looked down and grimaced. “I shall tell Miss Noelle of our plans, and change.”

  With that, she left the room. Simon listened to her footsteps fade away. He walked to the window. Laura might not welcome his visits, but she wasn’t entirely cold to him either. He’d seen a slight spark of appreciation when she’d flicked her gaze over him.

  Damn. He knew he was floundering through dangerous seas with Laura. Still, he couldn’t seem to keep away from this damaged former courtesan.

  Laura took only twenty minutes to ready herself for the ride. She came down the stairs in an unadorned brown gown and gloves. Her hair was swept back into a tight chignon and topped with a serviceable black bonnet that framed her lovely face.

  Despite the severity of her appearance, his breath caught.

  Yes, he was in deep danger.

  He’d never felt such an intense attraction to a woman, and he’d spent time with plenty of beauties. Her subtle seductive pull drew him in and refused to release him.

  There were bedrooms aplenty upstairs and Simon ached to make use of one. Instead, he silently cursed his thoughts, walked over to her, and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  Laura hesitated, then took his arm. He felt her hand tremble slightly as she touched him. Clearly, she was remembering the afternoon in the meadow.

  “I do not bite,” he teased, hoping to set her at ease.

  She met his eyes and wrinkled her nose. “Of that, I am not convinced.”

  Chuckling, Simon escorted her from the room and spotted Noelle at the end of the hallway. She leveled a pointed frown at him, a silent warning to return Laura in the condition in which she left. He frowned back at her. Then he smiled and led Laura out the door.

  I am impressed by how quickly you were able to secure a second horse, Mister Harrington. I thought your hunt for a mount would prove futile.”

  He’d led her through the tiny garden and disappeared into the mews behind the row of town houses. She renewed her acquaintance with Horse with several minutes of neck and ear scratching, before spotting Mister Harrington walking toward her, leading a saddled and pretty little gray mare.

  “You must call me Simon. I think we are well past the need for formality.” He dismissed Miss Eva’s groom and adjusted the stirrup himself, shortening the length.

  Laura wasn’t comfortable with using his given name, though she often thought of him that way. However, she’d not argue. The weather was divine and she hadn’t been riding in such a long time.

  “Where did you find her?” Laura asked and brushed her cheek against the mare’s soft nuzzle.

  “The right number of coins can rent almost anything,” Simon remarked as he walked over and gave her a hand up. She settled in the sidesaddle and accepted the reins. “She was residing in a stable three houses down. According to the stable boy, the owner is elderly and bedridden. She keeps the mare in hopes of one day riding again. The lad assures me his mistress will not notice her missing.”

  Smiling, Laura leaned down to rub the mare’s neck and murmured soft words. The mare and Horse were a matched set of grays and a lively pair. She smiled at her companion, pleased that she’d not have to ride Muffin.

  “What is her name?” she asked softly. Her world brightened with the feel of the fine animal beneath her.

  Simon paused. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask.”

  Laura looked from the unnamed mare to Horse and back. She grinned slyly. “For today, I’ll call her Mare.” She ran her gloved hand down Mare’s mane. “I do apologize for this slight, lovely girl. I am certain your real name is far more beautiful.”

  She tapped the mare with her heels. “Lead on, Mister Harrington.” She ignored his disapproving grunt. “You promised to have me back before nightfall.”

  “Indeed I did.” He darted a glance at the courtesan school and set Horse into motion. “Eva and Noelle will have me drawn and quartered if I break my promise.”

  His affection for the women was clear. The orphaned Laura envied his kinship with Noelle. She remembered that on the night of her escape, he’d mentioned they were cousins. And she’d begun to believe Miss Noelle and Miss Eva were more than just two women working toward saving courtesans. No, there were too many subtle exchanges between them not to suspect they were at least very dear friends.

  “They have Thomas to do the torturing.” Laura looked at him askance and teased, “I believe he is capable of tearing off limbs and heads.”

  He returned her glance and she shivered. The unwelcome reaction of her body to Mister Harrington unnerved her a bit, so she ignored the feeling. If she was to get through the afternoon without incident, she had to keep control of her traitorous body.

  “Don’t worry about my limbs,” he said confidently. “I am a fast runner.”

  Laura snorted and a giggle escaped. “I suspect you aren’t the kind of man to run from danger. I have seen no sign of cowardice during our short acquaintance.”

  In the cloud-filtered sunlight, she noticed a small scar through his left brow and another just beneath his chin. Either he’d been a very clumsy child, or he’d been in scrapes that involved fists or weapons. She believed it was the latter.

  He hadn’t hesitated in securing her from the footmen. He’d barreled over the two men with Horse and honed skill. He was no weak-kneed ninny.

  “How little you know of my nature, dear lady, to be able to make such an observation.” He sighed deeply. “I am afraid of mice and the dark and I shriek like a banshee when lightning cracks overhead. It is most shameful to admit.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “None of that is true.”

  He flashed a grin. “Alas, you have indeed caught me in a lie.” He pressed Horse into a trot. Mare followed suit. “Though if I see an animal frothing at the mouth, I flee like the wind in the opposite direction.”

  Giggles followed as she imagined a foaming fox chasing him across hill and dale, his coattails flapping as he fled. Oddly, the image didn’t fit at all. He was entirely too manly for such matters. However, the silly chatter had put her at ease. Soon London was behind them.

  “So what is it you do, Mister Harrington?” Laura asked after a quiet stretch passed between them. His clothes did not come from a peddler’s cart. They were fitted and costly. “Let me guess. Barrister? Ship captain?”

  He shook his head. “Until recently, I did as little as possible beyond seeking my pleasures. Now that I am in the shadow of thirty, and my uncle seems unwilling to beget an heir, my father has begun grooming me for the eventuality that I will inherit a title.”

  “Title?” Laura’s chest tightened. It was easy to be comfortable in the presence of a barrister or captain. Courtesans did not befriend noblemen.

  “Should I outlive my uncle and father, I will be Lord Seymour someday.” He shifted in the saddle. “I find it difficult to imagine myself as an earl. I was not born to expect it. There were two uncles born before my father, and we expected their sons to inherit. The oldest died without male issue and the second has no children.”

  The shine left the day. Her few contacts with the noble classes had left her with an unfavorable impression. They were spoiled, indulged, and took what they wanted without consequence.

  Westwick had promised her a life free of worries and instead nearly destroyed her. His friends were no better. They knew his character and mirrored it withou
t hesitation. The whole were a despicable lot.

  “Pity,” she remarked before realizing she’d spoken aloud. Her eyes opened wide and she slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. She’d just insulted a future earl.

  She waited for him to take her to task.

  “It is a pity,” he said soberly. “It is the curse of the eldest son to carry the weight of the family.” He looked up to the growing clouds. “If only Uncle Arthur had chased skirts rather than exotic plants, I’d be free.”

  Puzzlement brought her eyes to his. This was an odd turn.

  “One would think most men pray for the day when they become titled,” she said suspiciously. “I am surprised by your lack of enthusiasm.”

  Simon shrugged. “Some men are born with estate books in one hand and a sense of entitlement in the other. I wasn’t. Uncle Arthur almost married once, but the woman died of a fever before the wedding. After her death, he lost his appetite for the institution.”

  Laura likened the doomed romance to a Shakespearian tragedy. “Your poor uncle. He must have loved her.”

  “Since childhood.”

  Having never been in love herself, she could only see the matter in an abstract way. “I understand that some people love only once in their lifetime. To lose that love is terrible. How different his life might have been had she lived.”

  Simon shrugged again. “Now he is content to spend his life as an adventurer, ever seeking new plant species and avoiding romantic entanglements.”

  That Laura could understand. She planned to spend the rest of her life content to be alone. “Even though you were not born buried in estate books, you do have the sense of entitlement. I have sent you away several times, and yet you return again. I’m not certain what you want from me. However, if you have salacious intentions, you may think again.”

  He chuckled. “I am a man. We always think salacious thoughts about women. But no, I am not taking you to Surrey to seduce you in my drafty old house. I thought you might like another outing, and I knew that I would enjoy your company. I see I was right. You are charming.”

  “Charming? I’ve never been called charming. And I have been nothing but contrary to you since your first visit,” she said, her mouth twitching. “I’m quite out of practice when speaking to men I don’t despise. Perhaps you should reserve your opinion until after you’ve returned me to the school.”

  Horse snorted and shook his head.

  “I live with contrary women,” Simon countered grimly. “My mother has a temper and my sister lives to make me miserable. You, my dear Laura, could learn much from them.”

  Laura smiled behind her hand. “I think they sound wonderful. Any woman who can ruffle you is someone to admire.”

  With a pained expression, he scowled. “Now I think I shall reserve my opinion until I return you to Eva.”

  Feeling his consternation, and knowing she’d caused it, she laughed brightly. “That is an excellent idea.”

  They passed the time on lighter topics. She learned that he hated figs, rats, and wasps. She told him about her aversions to pickled eel, crows, and tea without sugar.

  His stories about his childhood were delightfully entertaining. Despite his comment about his mother and sister, she saw in his eyes his love for his family and envied the affectionate-squabbling relationship he shared with his younger sister and brother.

  “Did your sister really tell Miss Sally Pemberton that you caught some contagious disease from eating worms?” Laura gasp-giggled as she pictured the incident he described.

  Simon winced. “She did. That was the last time Sally ever spoke to me. Twelve-year-old girls already know that twelve-year-old boys are covered with icky stuff. Add an unnamed worm disease to the mix and she ran home so fast, she kicked up dust in her wake.”

  She shook her head. The young Miss Harrington had certainly given her older brother quite a time of it growing up. “I think your sister sounds delightful.”

  He glared. “That isn’t the word I would choose.”

  “And yet you love her.”

  “That I do.”

  Laura pondered all she’d heard. “I wonder what stories your sister would tell.” Laura said. “Did you dip her braid in an inkwell? Toss her in a puddle? Put a toad down the back of her gown?”

  “I was always a perfect gentleman,” he said.

  “I find that very difficult to believe.”

  She pondered the man as he pulled Horse to a stop. Mister Harrington was certainly full of contradictions: charming yet dangerous; amusing yet sober, too. The more she knew of him, the less she understood him.

  Something she did understand was the way she felt out of sorts when he looked at her with his intense blue eyes. Though he promised this trip was not about seduction, she wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t take advantage if pressed.

  Her body wasn’t repulsed as she’d been with Westwick. In fact, it was constantly aware of him beside her, as if on alert and eager for his touch.

  This would not do. She’d fight the attraction with everything within her.

  “It looks like rain,” he said, pulling her from her musing. “The good news is that we have arrived.”

  Laura startled and looked around. All she saw was a long, overgrown driveway curving through a patch of trees. There was something oddly familiar about the area but the trees kept her from making a connection to the house beyond. He urged Horse onward and Mare plodded in line. As the lane opened up to the first glimpse of stone and roof, Laura felt a swell of familiarity she couldn’t quite grasp. Did she know this estate?

  They finally broke from the tree line into a clearing and Laura saw the stone monolith that stood looming from atop a low hill.

  She gasped.

  Chapter Eight

  Laura, what is it?” She said nothing but sat frozen in the saddle with an odd look on her face. He pulled Horse to a stop, dismounted, and secured the horse to a tree.

  Walking over to help her down, he noticed she was staring off toward the back of the house. Her eyes had a far-off cast. It was as if she were lost in a private world where he was not invited.

  Worried, he touched her knee. “Laura, are you ill?”

  She blinked, and then without a word, she kicked the mare into motion. Simon stumbled backward to avoid the moving horse. The pair launched across the weeded yard, around the manor, and disappeared with a thud of receding hooves.

  Stunned, it took Simon a moment to recover from his surprise. What in the hell was happening?

  Fearful for her safety, he grabbed his reins, swung up on the gelding, and took off after them.

  As he circled the house, he noticed a narrow trail behind the manor. There was no sign of her, so he headed for the trail. Thankfully her direction was clear as he neared the opening. Broken twigs marked her passage into the forest.

  Horse plunged forward, narrowly dodging tree branches and ruts and overgrown weeds.

  “Damn woman,” he cursed as a leaf hit him in the eye. Had she lost her senses? What was her destination, or had she decided to steal the mare and escape to a new life somewhere?

  He barely had time to brace himself for flight when Horse bunched up beneath him and sailed over a log lying across the trail. Horse landed with an awkward thud, nearly unseating him. Skill kept Simon upright. At that speed, they should be narrowing the distance between them and the fleeing Laura, even with her head start. Horse was the superior animal. If she was running off, he should catch her soon enough.

  “A passable rider?” Simon snorted, and ducked. A passable rider would have killed herself racing at such a breakneck speed. Laura was likely born atop a saddle. The mare had wings.

  Up ahead, he saw enough light to expose a clearing before the gelding burst out of the trees and into an overgrown area where a building loomed before them. Simon sawed on the reins and Horse came to a hopping stop.

  Standing beside the mare, reins dragging loosely on the ground, stood Laura, her attention transfixed on the small ramshack
le cottage at the edge of a glen.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” he growled. “You could have killed yourself running off like that.”

  She said nothing under his scold. It was as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

  “Laura?” he queried and slid to the ground. Then louder, “Laura!”

  He hurried toward her, worried she’d suffered some sort of ailment of the mind. She didn’t turn to him but acknowledged his presence with a simple, “I grew up here.”

  “What?”

  “I grew up here,” she repeated.

  This time his brain processed her words. This was her home? The day was full of surprises. “When?”

  “Until just over a year ago.”

  Her voice was emotionless. “A year ago?” Confusion welled as he stared at the abandoned building. Was this really her home or had she hit her head on a tree branch in the trail and addled her mind? He needed to shake her from the trance in order to get answers.

  He reached to place a hand on her shoulder. She moved away before he made contact. She was stiff as she walked toward the narrow door that was hanging slightly askew on crumbling hinges.

  Curiosity overcame concern and Simon followed, weeds tugging at his breeches and scraping his boots as he walked briskly after her.

  He caught up at the door and placed a hand on her arm to stop her advance. She didn’t flinch. He moved around her and pushed open the damaged panel. Instinctively, he knew that whatever was troubling her, she’d tell him eventually.

  “Let me go first.” He looked in, finding no visible signs of wild beasts, before stepping over the threshold.

  The general smell of dust and decay filled his senses. It had been some time since anyone had cared for the modest structure. Light filtered in through the few windows, exposing the stark emptiness of the house.

  Laura followed him in, then passed by, her boots scattering dust as she walked into a room just off the entryway. Wary, he kept a close watch for unwelcome surprises.

  The room Laura entered was a parlor and likely the largest room in the cottage. A sizable stone fireplace stood at one end. Coal and burnt peat from a last fire was scattered over the hearth, likely caused by animals foraging for food.